


11. Meet the Parents: Sam takes Ryan home to his family

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [11]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	11. Meet the Parents: Sam takes Ryan home to his family

_**Meet the Parents: Sam Worthington takes Ryan Kwanten home to his family**_  
[current]

"All right. Ron and Jeanne," Ryan says, toying with the fine hairs at Sam's nape as he drives. "I can remember that. We're staying at your parents' house, yep, I remember that too. Know what I don't remember? Oh yeah! Ooh! I know!" Ryan waves his hand. "I don't remember when's the last time I got a proper kiss from you, but I'm pretty sure it was days ago. Definitely wasn't today." He grins at his lover and continues the caresses, softening the edge of his teasing words.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Well, you're sure as hell not getting one while I'm driving," he says. "And my parents'll be plastered to the windows watching for us so you're not getting one there." He grins at Ryan. "Guess you'll just have to wait," he teases back.

"Fine. I can wait. I can be great at waiting. I am moonlight on a still pond, that's how relaxed and waiting I am," Ryan murmurs, letting go of Sam.

Sam laughs. "I didn't say you had to stop touching me," he says, turning into his old neighbourhood. "At least not until we're on my street."

"Yeah? Tell me when." Ryan grins and slips his hand over Sam's neck once more, stroking lightly. He's halfway paying attention to his surroundings as they drive; it's his first visit to Perth, and he's interested in everything... it's just that Sam is so distracting, even when he's doing nothing at all.

Sam just grins and leans back into the touch for the few minutes it takes them to wind around the streets to his. "When," he says with a soft sigh as they make that last turn. "It's the one with Santa and the reindeer out front."

Pulling away, Ryan sits back. ''That's a lot of effort,'' he murmurs, checking out the large light display. ''Is it because you're coming home?'' He does a quick check of himself to make sure he looks presentable -- no crumbs or wrinkles or errant hard-ons.

"Nah. My dad does it every year - for the kids in the neighbourhood," Sam explains, pulling into the driveway and chuckling softly. "Told you," he says, nodding at the curtains moving in the front window.

Ryan nods in turn, suddenly nervous. "You don't think they'll suspect anything?" he asks softly, glancing at Sam. "I mean, or if they do, it'll be okay?"

"I'm sure they _know_ ," Sam says, wishing for a minute that his family was more like Ryan's. Even if it did mean being told to get on with it. "We just don't talk about it." Realizing he hasn't really answered the question. "They'll be fine," he says reassuringly. "They're looking forward to having you."

''All right.'' Ryan takes a deep breath then climbs out of the car, grabbing his bag. He breathes deeply, repeating Sam's reassurances in his mind. ''Ready.''

"Good. Promise you'll get your kiss later," Sam says, nudging Ryan towards the front door which is already opening, his mum right there and his dad behind her. "Mum, Dad, this is Ryan Kwanten. Ryan, this is my mum and dad, Jeanne and Ron Worthington."

"Oh, it's such a pleasure to meet you," Jeanne says, stepping forward to take Ryan's bag from him and automatically handing it to her husband. "Put this in the guest room." She hugs Ryan. "Merry Christmas and welcome to our home. This is the first time Sam's ever brought one of his friends home and we're so excited."

Sam looks confused. "Mum, I bring home my mates all the time."

"Yes, I know, but that's different, this is--" she breaks off, flushing a little.

"Mum!" Sam blinks hard.

Ron shoves his hand through the group bunched inside the front door and shakes Ryan's. "We're happy to have you," he says firmly. "Jeanne, let the poor boy inside."

“It's a pleasure to meet you,'' Ryan says, his smile growing. He shakes Ron's hand but Jeanne gets a hug. ''Thank you for making me feel so welcome.'' Sam was right -- it looks like it will be just fine.

Sam's still stunned at his mum's outburst, her words, and the next few minutes pass in a blur. The pouring of drinks, the setting out of homemade squares in the living room, his parents on one couch, he and Ryan on the other.

"Your parents didn't mind you not staying longer?" Jeanne asks, assuming Ryan's like Sam and hardly ever home.

''My mum would always like me to stay longer. But she was thrilled I was home for Christmas. I wouldn't have been otherwise,'' Ryan explains, sitting back and giving Sam a quick smile. ''I keep telling them they need to come visit me in LA, but my dad hates to fly.''

Ron nods. "Sam tells us you're a songwriter?"

"That's right. I attended the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. And I've been very lucky since then." Ryan sips at his drink, then says with a chuckle, "May I ask what else Sam told you?" He wonders what kind of information he could get out of Jeanne if it were just the two of them together.

Sam gives Ryan a look, nudging him with his knee.

"Not much," Jeanne says, holding out the plate of squares and some Christmas napkins bordered with holly. "He said you were a friend he met recently in L.A. and that the two of you really hit it off and when he mentioned coming home, you decided to come as well." She smiles at both of them. "He said you were able to write anywhere."

"Yes, I am. That's one of the best parts about my job; it's really completely mobile," Ryan agrees. He wonders just where in Jeanne's explanation she found clues that Ryan isn't one of Sam's usual mates. Wonders if it bothers Sam all that much. He takes a napkin and a square and gives Sam's mom thanks and a smile. "Sam claims he's not musical, though."

"No, he's not," Jeanne says, looking at her husband. "We tried to get him to take piano lessons when he was little but he would never sit still long enough."

"He always wanted to be outside, doing things," Ron says. "He was a real boy."

 _As opposed to a fake one?_ Sam wants to ask, but he keeps quiet, knowing better than to tease his parents. "I didn't like the woman in the neighbourhood who gave lessons," he explains to Ryan. "We all thought she was a witch and she had this whole room of those china dolls with the eyes that open and shut." He shudders. "Creepy as hell."

"Ahh, I understand." Ryan nods seriously, but his eyes are twinkling. "This shortbread is delicious, Mrs. Worthington," he says turning back to Jeanne. "My mum despaired of ever teaching my brothers and me how to bake."

"Thank you." Jeanne beams at Ryan. "How many brothers do you have?"

"Two. Tim's two years younger than I am and Matthew's three years younger. We kept our mum busy." Ryan smiles, but instead he's starting to second-guess himself, worrying that he might make a comment that's _too gay_ for Ron, proving himself to be not a 'real boy', Worrying that he won't pass Jeanne's interview, whatever its endgame.

Jeanne nods. "We would have liked to have had more children," she says with a soft sigh. "But we were told I shouldn't after we had Sam."

"And Sam's kept us busy enough," Ron says, patting Jeanne's knee. "We're really proud of him." He smiles at Ryan. "How long have you been living in L.A.?"

Sam mostly keeps quiet during the next half hour, interjecting only when necessary to clarify some point or translate what he's sure his father meant to say when he gets to close to saying something offensive. He doesn't mean it that way though, and Sam hopes Ryan knows it.

"Well, I think we'd better turn in," Ron says finally, glancing at the clock and getting slowly to his feet. "We'll see you boys in the morning and we can make plans for the day over breakfast." He smiles at Ryan. "You're not a vegetarian, are you?"

"No, Sir," Ryan says, rising to his feet and throwing a wink at Sam. "I love meat. And especially when it's rare. I like my meat bloody." He blanches as soon as the words are out of his mouth, realizing he's now a bit too punchy for polite company.

Sam struggles to keep a straight face as he stands and hugs his mum and dad, telling Ron that yes, a full breakfast and shrimp and steaks on the barbie for lunch sounds fantastic.

Finally though, his parents have trundled off to bed and Sam sits back down, staring at Ryan for a moment. "Sorry for the inquisition."

Ryan drags a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. "Yeah, I don't think I've been grilled that hard since... ever," he murmurs, still a little shell-shocked. He raises an eyebrow at Sam. "Did I pass?"

Sam nods. "With flying colours, I'd say, but I don't know what got into them. I didn't say anything - at least I don't think I did." He leans in and kisses Ryan, softly on the mouth. "You're not upset, are you?"

"God, no. You probably would've gotten the same from my parents," Ryan answers, lifting his hand to Sam's chest, feeling the warm beat of his heart beneath. "Is this my kiss, now?"

"One of them," Sam grins, kissing him again. Still soft but longer this time.

Stress flows out of Ryan's muscles as he relaxes into the kiss, parting his lips. Licking into Sam's mouth. "This is okay?" he whispers, but doesn't wait for an answer before kissing Sam again.

"This is," Sam whispers back between kisses, his hand on Ryan's hip now, tugging him closer. "Anything more and we're gonna have to move to one of the bedrooms. And be very, very quiet."

"You know I'm not so good with quiet." Ryan's only half-joking, intoxicated by Sam's touch, needing it on his bare skin. He grazes his lips along Sam's jaw. "Just to warn you."

"You seemed to manage on the plane," Sam teases, hand working its way up under Ryan's shirt, something in him getting off on making out like teenagers in his parents' living room.

''Barely,'' Ryan says, huffing a soft laugh. He wriggles to get more of that teasing touch, and slides his hand over Sam's ass. It's unreal, sitting here bathed in the glow of the Christmas lights, surrounded by Jeanne's decorations. A very real urgency is starting to make itself known, however. ''Can I sneak into your bedroom?''

"Yeah." Sam nods. He draws back after another kiss and gets to his feet, tugging Ryan with him. "Let me show you where everything is and you can get changed and come see me." He points out his parents' bedroom at the one end of the hall, the bathroom beside it, his own room and finally the guest room. "Your bag's already in here and my mum put a set of towels out of you," he says, gesturing to the end of the bed.

''Your parents have been really amazing,'' Ryan says, pulling off his shirt. He takes a moment to study Sam's face in the soft light. ''You okay with all this?''

Sam shrugs a little. "I wish they'd told me they suspected you were more than just one of my mates," he says. "You know, here I thought I was being careful because they needed that..." he shrugs again. "And I still don't know what they're okay with."

Ryan nods. ''Okay. I'm more worried about your comfort level than theirs,'' he murmurs, stepping closer. ''Want to keep you happy.''

"You do," Sam says, giving Ryan a soft smile. "I'm real happy you're here." He reaches out, snagging a finger through a belt loop and reeling Ryan in for a hug.

With a happy sigh Ryan moves into the hug. He soaks up Sam's scent, his nearness, both familiar and elusive. ''Missed you.''

"Missed you too," Sam whispers, kissing the side of Ryan's throat, holding him close for a moment longer before finally pulling back with a sigh. "I'll be right back. I'd better get changed. If my parents catch me coming out of your room later, I can say I popped over to say goodnight."

"Okay." Ryan lets him go with a soft chuckle, then turns his attention to his own clothes, stripping down to his boxers. He carefully folds his clothes and sets them aside, not wanting to disturb the pristine neatness of the guest room any more than he has to. Shutting off the light, he slips into bed, giving his cock a couple strokes as he waits on edge for Sam.

Dressed only in pajama bottoms, which he wears only for wandering around the house, Sam slips back into the guest room, the door closed softly behind him. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness but then he's slipping in beside Ryan, pulling him close again, mouth already on his, devouring.

"Did you lock it?" Ryan whispers, knowing full well he won't stop rubbing against Sam anyway. He rolls Sam to his back and straddles his body, rising over him in the darkness. "I haven't done this since I was a teenager."

"It doesn't lock," Sam says with a soft laugh. "It's broken. But my parents wouldn't dare come in," he assures Ryan, hands already roaming over him, thighs, hips, into his boxers, everyfuckingwhere he can reach.

 _Especially not now_ , Ryan thinks, but doesn't say it. If Sam's parents suspected that Sam and Ryan are more than friends, they likely suspect there's something going on in the guest room as well. Ryan grins and pushes his cock into Sam's hand, hissing under his breath.

"Are you prepped?" Sam asks, wrapping his hand around Ryan's cock and stroking roughly.

"Yes," Ryan gasps, his cock hard and hot beneath Sam's fingers.

"Good. I want you to ride me," Sam whispers, rubbing his thumb over the head, groaning at the precome he finds there, before he releases his hold on Ryan.

Ryan nods, breathless, then rolls off Sam to wriggle out of his boxers. He helps Sam with his pajama bottoms, tugging them down, then climbs back on top of him, reaching back to fit the head of Sam's cock to his hole. Still amazed by the wickedly intimate novelty of doing this with no barriers between them.

Sam catches his bottom lip in upper teeth, his cock throbbing even as he pushes up, slowly breaching that first tight ring of muscle. "Fuck. Yeah," he breathes.

Wrapping his hands around the headboard, Ryan pushes down with a low whimper. Slowly Sam fills him and he lets his breath out in a rush, tipping his head back as he takes his lover deeper.

"Yeah, that's it, all the way in," Sam urges, hands sliding to cup Ryan's ass, delve between his cheeks and feel where they're joined, his cock disappearing inch-by-inch into Ryan's hole.

Biting back a groan, Ryan lets Sam in until he's balls-deep. Then he begins to rock his hips, slowly building a liquid pace, his hands flexing and unflexing on the headboard.

In the darkness of the room, it's natural for Sam to close his eyes and lose himself in the feel of Ryan's body. In that soft tight heat which seems to completely surround him, making it harder and harder to breathe, his head swimming, every last ounce of blood going straight to his cock. "So good," he whispers. "So fucking good."

Leaning down, Ryan kisses Sam, long and deep. _I love you_ , he thinks, but doesn't let the words cross his lips. He pulls back and gradually ups the pace, riding Sam faster until he has to shove his arm in his own mouth to muffle his groans.

"Close," Sam finally whispers when the arousal's coiled so tightly he can barely meet the next thrust for fear of going over. "Want you to come with me."

"Yes," Ryan breathes, grinding down. "Touch me," he begs, opening his eyes to look down at Sam in the dimness. "Please."

Sam wraps his hand back around Ryan's cock, working him roughly, holding on for just that minute longer, before he's coming, hard, teeth gritted, unable to help himself, thick heated spurts filling his... lover. Christ.

Ryan holds on a second longer, feeling Sam swell inside him. Then he bucks into Sam's hand, biting down furiously on his arm, the bright flash of pain driving him on as he quakes and sprays over Sam's fingers, wringing himself out.

"Good boy," Sam breathes, already reaching to tug Ryan down, his hand quickly wiped on his pajama bottoms before he wraps both arms around him, holding him tight. Still stunned by the thought that had gone through his head - _his_ boy. The word, the ownership behind it, freaking him out.

Oblivious, Ryan clutches at Sam, his heart thundering. He nuzzles his lover, licking Sam's throat, tasting the salt-sweat of desire. Still filled, feeling Sam's come marking him deep inside.

Breathing slowly and deeply, Sam pushes the anxiety down. He holds Ryan tight, reminding himself to simply enjoy the moment, the here and now, and eventually, the feeling of everything closing in passes. "I never did this at home before," he murmurs, grinning, amused. "Kind of a strange first to have after all these years."

Ryan chuckles and kisses Sam, easing off him. "I got to be your first something," he murmurs, snugging up against Sam's side. "Cool. Do we raid the fridge naked now?"

"Are you hungry?"

"After stuffing myself like a turkey on your mum's baking? No. I was kidding," Ryan murmurs, tracing his fingertips over Sam's thigh. He sighs, and his mind wanders back to his worry of earlier. "Do you think I seemed too gay to your dad?"

"No." Sam frowns. "Why would you think that?" He can't think of anything Ryan said that _seemed_ gay at all, much less _too_ gay, whatever that means.

"He said that thing about how you were a _real_ boy, not one who played music," Ryan explains, his lips brushing Sam's shoulder. "After that, I kind of wondered how everything looked to him."

Oh God. Sam winces. "He didn't mean it would have made me less of a boy if I'd spent some time inside or learned piano," he says. "That was just his explanation for why they couldn't get me to sit still." He pulls Ryan in closer. "Look at you. I'm sure he can tell you're not spending the whole day inside and I already told them you surf and like to be outdoors as much as you can. And either way, it's what _I_ think that matters."

"It is," Ryan agrees. "And I don't really think my masculinity is under question usually. It's just that we came all this way, I want to make a good impression. Not make things difficult for you."

Sam smiles. "Hey. It's obvious my mum likes you and if my dad didn't, he would have found some way to excuse himself and leave us with my mum. Trust me, he likes you. Or as much as he could like any guy he suspects of fucking his son."

Ryan snorts a soft laugh. "Haven't done that yet," he murmurs, thinking of their conversation in the restaurant the other day. He smirks. "Wouldn't want to disappoint him."

Sam laughs, quickly quieting the outburst. Shit. "Maybe once we're back in Sydney. Or London. Or maybe I'll make you wait until we get home," he teases.

"I'll be watching your ass for weeks," Ryan says, smiling. "And suffering, thinking about being inside you." His hand drifts down Sam's thigh, stroking.

"Filling me with your come," Sam supplies helpfully, kissing Ryan, his softening cock starting to stir again.

"Marking you as mine," Ryan growls softly, nipping at Sam's chin.

Fuck. Sam groans. "How fast can you get hard again?" he whispers.

"With you? Couple of minutes."

Sam grins at that. "And you have lube?"

"Of course. In my jeans pocket." The talk of which starts to harden him immediately. "Have you got a gag?"

"I'll use a pillow," Sam says, grinning like a fucking fool as he slips out from under Ryan's arm and turns over, pushing up to his hands and knees. "Just remember, I haven't done this in a really fucking long time," he whispers, wondering just how fucking mad he has to be to do it now.

"I meant for me..." The sight of Sam getting into position in the dim light takes Ryan's breath away, his protests with it. _Holy Christ_. He rolls off the bed and snatches his jeans up, grabbing a slim bottle of lubricant from the pocket. Getting behind Sam, he strokes lightly over his ass, gently spreading his cheeks. Then Ryan dips down and licks at his hole.

Sam chuckles softly. "I'd offer you a pillow too," he says, "but it might get in the --shit," his cock jerking sharply at the touch of Ryan's tongue.

Ryan grins and licks again, rimming Sam's hole. Slowly he begins to thrust his tongue inside, just the tip at first, then deeper. Until he's pushing into his lover, tasting him from the inside. Tight heat surrounding.

Sam bites his lip to keep from calling out but he can't help the soft moans he makes, the way he presses back, wanting more, his cock jerking again and again, already wet at the tip. Fuck, Ryan's good at this.

 _Fuck_. Sam's responsiveness is all Ryan could ask for, and it twists lust into a knot deep in his gut. He's tongue-fucking Sam now, lost in what he's doing. Until his cock begins to ache with need. Easing back, Ryan gasps for breath and pops open the lube. Then he slides one slick finger into Sam.

Grunting quietly, Sam winces at the first finger, lubed as it is. He wasn't exaggerating when he said it'd been a long time, but he's eager for this and eagerness overrides everything else.

Ryan works his finger in and out, then carefully adds a second. He stretches Sam almost gently, ignoring the hunger clawing at him. Telling himself not to hurt Sam more than he needs to, even while a secret part of him revels in the thought. He presses a third finger inside, corkscrewing them together.

"Oh, fuck," Sam gasps, dropping to his elbows, his face pushed into the pillow. Fuckfuckfuck. But despite the pain, he's pressing back, still demanding more, too much into the thought of having Ryan inside him to pull back now.

Groaning softly, Ryan fucks Sam with three fingers, opening him up. Twisting his wrist, he seeks out the bundle of nerves inside, rubbing it. Finally he pulls back and slicks his cock with extra lube, his heart racing. With one hand he guides himself into Sam's body, pushing hard past that first tight ring of muscle.

Sam shouts into the pillow, gripping it tight in his hands, the pain shooting through him, sharp and unrelenting for a long long moment, but despite that, he's harder than ever. He swallows hard and pushes back again, embracing it, knowing it'll turn to outright pleasure soon enough.

"Shit. Fuck. Shit." Ryan squeezes his eyes shut and freezes, trying like hell to hang on to his self-control. "Sam, are you...?"

"Yeah." Sam nods. "Just fuck me," he whispers, willing his body to relax, his hole to open, pushing back so Ryan knows they're not just words. He _wants_ this.

Ryan groans low in his throat. He splays his fingers over Sam's hips, gripping tightly. "Bite down," he warns in a whisper, and shoves forward at the same time he jerks Sam back, slamming in the rest of the way. Barely biting back his own shout as he slowly starts to move again, shallowly fucking his lover.

The sound Sam makes then is barely human, forced into the pillow, his mouth filled with cotton. He whimpers and groans, the pain searing through his frame, his cock dripping on the bedsheets below. _Yes, fucking yes,_ he growls softly, the sound low in his throat, his legs spread wider, welcoming more.

It feels too damn good. Unbelievably tight, like a fist around Ryan's cock, demanding more from him. His breath hitches so hard his chest hurts as he starts to speed up, rocking into Sam at the pace his body so desperately needs. The bedsprings creak and an errant thought warns him that there's no mistaking _that_ sound, whatever gags they attempt, but he can't stop now, lost in the pull of Sam's body.

The sensation of skin upon skin, of cock into hole -- it's utterly overwhelming. Sam buries his face in the pillow, his teeth clenched tight, and just _takes_ it.

It happens fast: one instant Ryan is in control, and in the next his climax slams into him like a speeding freight train. He's coming before he can beg for it, pleasure cresting through him in massive waves, taking over everything until he can't even see. Marking Sam, from the inside.

And that's it for Sam. The moment he feels Ryan's hips hitch, feels the hot come flooding inside him, he's lost, coming hard and heavy, making an absolute mess of the sheets beneath him without even being touched. _Fuck._

It takes everything Ryan has to remember how to breathe. For long moments he stays where he is, hands smoothing absent caresses over Sam's hips. Then he pulls out, sinking down into the bed and wrapping his arms around Sam. Too shaken to speak, to do anything but simply hold his lover tight.

"You okay?" Sam whispers when he has his own breath back. Or mostly.

"Mmm." Ryan has no idea whether he's okay, already feeling cold and detached after being so deeply connected. Possessiveness to a frightening degree rushes through him, the aftermath of being granted so much. He doesn't loosen his grip. Can't. "You?"

"Yeah." Sam nods. Kisses the curve of Ryan's jaw. "A little sore but good." He smiles. "Really good."

"Okay." Gradually Ryan forces himself to loosen up, ignoring his urge to tighten to a stranglehold. He wants to swallow Sam whole, keep him locked up forever. Whatever it takes. _Not good_. He'd forgotten what it was to feel this way, selfish and needy to his core. It's terrifying. "Thank you," he whispers, knowing he needs to say at least that, even if nothing else.

"You're very welcome," Sam whispers back, grinning and kissing Ryan again. Still stunned but amused that they did this here, in his parents' house, of all places. "Now you've got two firsts with me."

Ryan huffs a laugh, taking it to heart. "That's pretty amazing," he whispers. "You're amazing." _And mine_.

"So are you," Sam murmurs, then sighs softly. "I wish I could stay here but I'd better get back to my own room." Cursing under his breath as he shifts and is very suddenly reminded of the mess he made of Ryan's sheets. "Better change your bed first though. I'll sneak the sheets into the wash."

"Okay." Ryan's limbs feel leaden but after a second he manages to move, letting go of Sam altogether and rolling out of bed to strip the sheets. He hates to ask, shouldn't ask, but... "What'd you do while I was gone? Did you get out and hook up?"

"Nah." Sam shakes his head, reaching to turn on the light beside the bed and find another set of sheets in the dresser bottom drawer. "I had a couple more meetings, did the last of my Christmas shopping, brought home some beer and watched too much fucking TV." He smiles. "Which reminds me." He picks up his pajama bottoms and pulls a small package from the pocket. "It's not much and I don't really know if it's your sort of thing so don't worry about offending me if you want to return it."

Pausing in making the bed, Ryan takes the package in surprise. It's wrapped in bright Christmas paper, and after a second he tears it open to the small box inside. Opening it to reveal a [thick intricately braided leather bracelet](http://ak1.ostkcdn.com/images/products/L12759185.jpg). "It's beautiful," he whispers, his heart kicking against his ribs. "I love it." He fingers the leather for a moment before handing the bracelet to Sam. "Put it on me?"

Sam nods and smiles, ducking his head a little, pleased Ryan seems to like it. He fiddles with the clasp but gets it after a moment, fastening it around Ryan's wrist. "There you go. It looks good," he says, leaning in and kissing Ryan on the mouth. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Ryan murmurs back, his smile starting to creep out again. "I got you, um..." he digs in his bag for a second. "I guess it's not really similar, but..." he laughs, and hands Sam a wrapped package.

Sam grins. He slowly unwraps the package, his smile widening as he sees the gorgeous thick [leather black belt](http://www.bullhidebelts.com/Black-Grooved-Edge-BullHide-Belt_p_8.html). "I bet you had ulterior motives with this purchase," he teases, running his hands over the leather and hefting the weight of it in his hand.

"Might've." It makes Ryan's mouth water, just looking at Sam with a leather strap in his hand. "Or I might've just thought you needed help accessorizing," he teases, but he can't pull off the necessary straight face.

Sam swats Ryan on the shoulder. "Brat." He holds up the belt. "For this, you _will_ have to wait til we get back to Sydney but I'll wear it tomorrow - just to remind you of what's coming," he promises, eyes sparkling.

"So long as you're thinking of it, too," Ryan grins, slipping his arm around Sam's waist. Stepping in close to kiss him good night, his hands sliding restlessly over Sam's ass.

"It'll be hard to think of anything but," Sam murmurs, kissing Ryan back, reluctant to leave even though he knows he needs to get the sheets into the wash and himself cleaned up. "I'll see you in the morning," he whispers, brushing his lips across Ryan's.

Ryan licks out, catching Sam's bottom lip gently between his teeth. "Okay," he whispers back, and smacks Sam's ass, the sound loud as a shot in the stillness.

Sam's eyes widen and he grabs Ryan's wrist, twisting his arm a little. "Hey. What the hell was that for?" he growls softly, his heart beating so loudly he can barely make out any other sounds in the house.

"Just... letting you know I'll miss you," Ryan murmurs, surprised and confused by the intensity of Sam's reaction. His eyes are wide. "Sorry."

Shit. Sam lets go of Ryan's wrist. "I just - my parents." He gives up trying to explain and slides the same hand around the nape of Ryan's neck, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm sorry too."

"All right." Ryan chews on his lip a moment, his heartbeat thundering. It's a hell of a way to end what was a great evening. "Did I just fuck everything up?" he asks carefully.

"No." Sam shakes his head, chuckling softly. "Not at all. Just try and be on your best behaviour tomorrow, okay? You can molest me all you want on the plane ride back."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan breathes, some of the tension flowing out of him.

"Good boy," Sam murmurs, kissing Ryan softly. "Now go wash up and get into bed."

''Yes, Sir,'' Ryan repeats, and kisses Sam again, needing that brief reassuring contact before he steps away to find his clothes.

Sam pulls on his pajama bottoms and quietly closes the door behind him, heading for the laundry closet with Ryan's sheets. Thankfully he gave his mum a brand new ultra quiet washer and dryer set the Christmas before and the washer barely makes any noise at all as it gets going. He washes up in the half bath just inside the front door, wishing in a way that he didn't have to clean up, not fully. And wishing even more that he didn't have to sleep alone tonight. Not with Ryan right there in the next fucking room. Christ.

Alone in the guest room, Ryan pulls pencil and staff paper from his bag, settling down at a small carved writing desk. It's the best thing he knows to do with churning feelings, feelings which definitely won't let him sleep yet.

Heading back to his bedroom, Sam notices the light still peeking out from under the guestroom door. He gives a soft knock but doesn't wait for an answer before easing it open and smiling through the crack. "I just wanted to say goodnight one more time," he whispers, feeling bad about the way they'd parted earlier.

Ryan smiles, holding out his hand as he gets to his feet. He crosses to Sam in two long steps, linking their fingers together. "I'll dream about you," he promises softly. "And tomorrow will be amazing."

"Yeah, it will," Sam says, kissing Ryan, the tension he'd been feeling easing. "It'll be brilliant."

It's too easy to start to melt in the kiss, and Ryan has to pull himself back after a long moment. "Good night," he whispers.

"G'night," Sam whispers back, smiling, reluctantly leaving Ryan but feeling better than when he'd come in. "Sweet dreams," he says with a grin, closing the door softly behind him.  



End file.
